


Graceful In the Morning Light

by Sippingspringtea (mylifesahell)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Transformation, Canon Compliant, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mostly Gen, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23540716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifesahell/pseuds/Sippingspringtea
Summary: Jaskier was born during a catastrophe. Large swathes of fire dance across the land in the greatest forest fire that dared grace the earth. And once the fires had petered out,  of the destruction that was left; dust, ash, and coal he was born. He was not like other babes, no, he came wriggling out of the ashes screaming his tiny lungs out. His skin was hot to the touch and his eyes burned like blue flame.And there is nothing ordinary about that.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 36
Kudos: 510





	Graceful In the Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and Kudos are love and life. The title is from Tiger Mountain Peasant Song by Fleet Foxes.

Jaskier was born during a catastrophe. Large swathes of fire dance across the land in the greatest forest fire that dared grace the earth. And once the fires had petered out, of the destruction that was left; dust, ash, and coal he was born. He was not like other babes, no, he came wriggling out of the ashes screaming his tiny lungs out. His skin was hot to the touch and his eyes burned like blue flame. 

His parents found him later that day wailing in the ash. Julius and Emilia Pankratz, nobles travelling through the dense yet dead forest. Upon finding the child they cursed the previous family for abandoning a helpless baby to the elements. They had no children of their own, raving at the beautiful miracle that was their now son. So the tiny babe now dubbed Julian wrapped in fine silks and clutched tightly to his mother's breast was finally safe. 

He grew quite ordinarily, like any other child. His hot skin and bright eyes soon dulled into something normal. He looked ordinary, acted ordinary, and was and seemed like any other human. But, if you looked carefully and had the eye for things unnatural you'd have known something was amiss. Julian attracted fire. It burned much brighter when he was around, and snuffed itself out if it posed any danger. And of course, there was the incident in the garden when Julian had set the roses "accidentally" on fire after his mother had given him a scolding. So he wasn't ordinary, not quite. But, Julian didn't notice. No one noticed. 

It does become a problem when he finally sets out into the world as a bard after years in Oxenfurt studying. One night Julian "accidentally" burns a couple of bandits, he blames it on his shoddy fire-making skills. Not that he's complaining. Or when he "accidentally" burned an inn down lighting a candle. He changes his name to Jaskier after that. Sometimes when he's alone and quiet and is being warmed by a fire, Jaskier aches. He aches bodily and yearns deeply. He misses something he hadn't known he lost. But it fades, leaving him cold and maybe a little empty, soon that fades too.

He meets Geralt not too long after. Jaskier views it as an opportunity to make a name for himself and Geralt. Whose reputation is sorely lacking. And it works, surprisingly.  Geralt is an odd man, Jaskier finds. He pretends not to care and then cares a whole lot. He's honest and kind. His smiles are rare and fleeting, filling Jaskier with joy if he's able to coax one out. But, when Geralt is angry he's a bloody pox-ridden prick of a man, who pisses Jaskier off and makes him want to beat the witcher with his lute. But, Jaskier enjoys travelling with him, as long as Geralt will have him. 

There are many quiet nights, just the two of them. They share many beds and baths to conserve heat and save money. 

Geralt shows affection strangely. He can't express himself as the great poets can. But Geralt likes to touch. He'll hold Jaskier's hand if he thinks something is unsafe or brushes his fingers across Jaskier's cheeks if Jaskier is being particularly endearing. But, what Jaskier finds out surprisingly is that Geralt likes it when someone runs their fingers through his hair. And on occasion, Jaskier will push the boundaries and attempt to braid it. Jaskier enjoys it as well. Enjoys the closeness of it all. 

The Djinn incident changes things. He wakes up lying in a plush soft bed covered in his own blood. And is truly startled to find a woman with violet eyes peering at him curiously. 

" What are you?" She says in a drawl that may have wanted to come out casual but lacks the blandness behind it. 

"Wha." Says Jaskier, bard extraordinaire, a poet of poets, and lover of the Countess de Stael.

" When the witcher brought you here your throat was already healing." The woman continues. " You barely needed my help, so what kind of creature are you that even a djinn attack barely affects you." 

She cocks her head waiting for an answer, but Jaskier is too tired to answer and slightly alarmed. 

" you're a being of pure magic, that much I can tell. The unbridled chaos thrums in your veins barely contained." The woman smiles, producing a knife. 

That's what sets Jaskier into action. Sliding off the bed in a hurry slipping on his boots.

" Uh, I don't know where I am... I have an appointment! W-with a friend...who has my cat." Jaskier babbles. "He's very temperamental. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting." 

Jaskier attempts to bolt for the doors, but they slam shut with a burst of wind. The woman smirks, ah so she's a witch.

" Make your final wish and you're free to go little bard." The witch proclaims." Or lend me some of your power, and freedom is yours" 

" I don't know what that means!" Jaskier exclaims. " I don't have any power, I'm a poet." 

The witch rolls her eyes. 

" Don't act so damn foolish, fine if you want to conserve your power so be it." The witch says. "The Djinn then." 

" I'd like very much to leave this place." Jaskier squeaks.

" Wonderful." 

The witch grinned as the doors burst open behind him. And great wild wind gathers up and blows. He hears the Djinn howl and moans as it's dragged towards the Witch. She begins to chant and Jaskier bolts. 

Later much later, when they're back on the road, weaving from inn to inn, collecting coin. Jaskier receives a letter from home. It's from his mother. His father is dying, so it seems it's time to go home. Geralt is surprisingly pleasant about the whole thing. And weirdly touchy since the Djinn, like Jaskier, might keel over at any moment. Oddly enough Geralt holds Jaskiers hand often. They still haven't spoken about the incident. Jaskier is unsure they ever will. Geralt even offers to travel with him home. He smiles at the witcher, letting him know it won't be necessary. 

" Please be careful Jaskier. I won't be around to protect you." Geralt says with a rare smile. He squeezes Jaskiers shoulder. 

" I'll be fine. I know the way home quite well." He puffs out. "Besides I couldn't keep you from Witchering for too long." 

He gives Geralt a quick hug, so quick Geralt can't complain about it. 

"Goodbye Jaskier." Geralt manages out, as something like guilt flashes on his face. 

Jaskier sighs and smiles, even though there is a squeezing feeling in his heart, a longing to continue his journey with Geralt. He knows that it will be some time before Geralt admits he was the one with the wishes. The cause of the attack on his singing voice. 

" Goodbye, my dear Witcher. Will I see you come spring again?" Jaskier asks. 

Geralt only nods. 

The trek home is painful. Memories wind around Jaskiers head as much as the roads do. He feels wound up and tight, he hadn't spoken to his father in years, only sending letters to his mother. Addressed only to her. His father had wanted him to stay and take over the family estate and holdings. Marry a woman he didn't love and be done and hoped that he'd raise a family. Never saw elegance or beauty in music, but rather in opulence and money. They fought, horribly. But, even then there was still love in his father's heart. His father just wanted his family together. A large one at that, one that his mother could never give. So, he knew his father clung onto what he already had. So tightly, too tightly smothering it.

But Jaskiers had ached for more, for adventure. That led him to Oxenfurt. 

He sits tiredly in front of a makeshift fire, it illuminates his skin and warms him. And that dull ache that comes and goes returns.

The fire flares suddenly.

Then fizzles out.

Jaskier groans frustratedly.

  
  


Jaskier fidgets as he reaches the gates of his home. A servant by the name of Anila carefully escorts him up several winding staircases until he reaches a large set of double doors. The servant bows and scurries off. He opens the door carefully and slips inside. As soon as he closes it gingerly he is being embraced. His mother breathes him in with a shaky breath. 

" Thank you, my little flower," His mother whispers. " for coming. I wasn't sure you would." 

She trembles. Her small frame shook in Jaskiers arms. He glances at his father who looks thin and frail but is at least sleeping peacefully in a too-big bed. His mother leads him to sit next to her and hold vigil. He falls asleep a few moments after. The long trek finally took its toll.

He awakens, to someone shaking him lightly. He groans a little, mutters a little. His bones and his neck creaks as his eyes flutter open.

" Julian," it's his father he realizes. " Julian, I'm glad you're here." 

" it's been a while, papa." Julian manages to say. 

" too true, the estate is quiet without your singing." His father coughs wetly. " I hear you found yourself a new muse." 

" I have." Jaskier answers curtly. Averting his father's gaze. Anger bubbles up in the place of pity, but before he can even let loose. His father raises a shaking hand to stop him. 

" I'm sorry," His father says. " you are angry at me. With good cause, I should have let you go. You could never have bloomed here." 

" But you still pushed me away," Jaskier mutters bitterly. He's hurt, and sad, wishing for the better times with his father. 

It was his father that brought him his first lute after all. 

" I do not expect you to forgive me." He chuckled "Ah, your mother says I'm gaining new perspectives in dying." His father rasps. There's a moment of silence. "Play me something. Please?" 

There is softness in his father's voice. Jaskier is asked so kindly tears spring into his eyes. He never hated his father, no, this will be Jaskier's last gift to him. Because he can't forgive him either.

"I thought you never liked my singing?" Jaskier asks, surprised.

His father smiles. 

" Your voice is beautiful. I suppose I just forgot to tell you." 

Jaskier picks up his lute and begins to strum a short melody. One of his very first compositions.

_ The wind in the roses break off the petals.  _

_ Time is moving forward.  _

_ It shakes the nettles and pulls at the trees.  _

_ The world is moving forward  _

_ That is why I cannot stay. _

_ Wild as I am.  _

_ So do not wait for me, my love _

_ I will be another man.  _

_ The fire that burns in the pit,  _

_ Spits and twists around.  _

_ It dances and dares all who see,  _

_ To join its crackling sound _

_ That is why I cannot stay. _

_ Wild as I am.  _

_ So do not wait for me, my love  _

_ I will be another man. _

_ The dangers that lie past walls  _

_ Wail and moan about _

_ So do not try to follow me  _

_ I cannot stand your pout _

_ That is why I cannot stay. _

_ Wild as I am.  _

_ So do not wait for me, my love _

_ I will be another man _

His father dies a week later, and Jaskier stays for the winter. His mother is distraught, but there is relief in her eyes. He wonders if watching his father struggle before death was worse than the grief that comes after it. She wanders around the estate sometimes in the early morning, and Jaskier has to gently bring her back inside to rest. Her black and gold dress swishes as she sits and reclines in the parlour.

" You will stay, won't you, Jasione." His mother asks sweetly. 

" I don't know, mother. I have someone waiting for me come spring." Jaskier says sadly. Softly clutching his mother's hand. 

" Someone you love, dearly then." His mother smiles wickedly. "and who has swayed my son's heart?"

" a witcher," Jaskier says with a smirk. 

His mother gapes at him but then smiles even more mischievously. She winks. 

" They better bloody treat you right." His mother says with venom. " or I will do a lot more to them then just tossing coins." 

Jaskier gapes at her then. She smiles and laughs. But her face grows serious, she draws herself up and straightens her back, no longer relaxed. Jaskier suddenly remembers why his mother was never trifled with. Why his father would bend so easily to her, her face is all business. 

" There is something I must tell you, Jasione. It was mine and your father's hope that we would tell you as soon as you turned of age. But, you had whisked yourself off to Oxenfurt before we could tell you properly." His mother's voice is stern yet soft. A strange contradiction. Jaskier winces. " And now that your father is gone, it is of great import that I tell you." 

" Mother you're frightening me," Jaskier chuckles.

She grabs his hands hard and pulls him in close to her. She searches his eyes and cups his cheeks.

" You are my son. Nothing will ever change that. No gods, no monster, nor sorceresses, not even destiny can take you away from me now." His mother says seriously. " We found you, my sweet Jasione. There was a great forest fire in Cidaris, that raged for almost two weeks wiping out some small villages. Your father and I were travelling home from Kerak when we found you. You were only a week old. Covered in soot, and seemingly unharmed by the surrounding destruction." 

The quiet is deafening between them. There are tears pouring down his mother's face, as she sobs. Tears are running down his face, huh, he hadn't realized.

" We had no children of our own. It was if the Gods had given you to us. And we loved you immediately. But, it doesn't matter, It doesn't. You never had to be my own blood for me to love you." 

Jaskier stands with shaking hands and leaves the parlour. He doesn't leave his room for three whole days. He doesn't open the door for anyone. And on the fourth he emerges, finds his mother in the study pouring over documents and important papers. 

She shoots out of her chair when she sees him.

" My so- Julian," She corrects herself. She appears strong but Jaskier sees the cracks in the visage." You must be here to have your things collected, I can have it arranged." 

Jaskier comes around the desk and hugs her, tightly. 

" I love you, mama," Jaskier says with a bright smile. 

His mother sighs, and cries.

  
  


Spring comes faster than it should, and with new revelations. He stirs his horse into a trot, beginning a new journey into the world. His mother waves from the balcony at the front of the estate. No longer wearing black. She wears blue, to match the sky. Her blonde hair starts to turn white as it flutters in the warm breeze. Jaskier waves back with a smile. The road will be long, and even harder it is to find a witcher upon it. 

Jaskier finds Geralt in a foul mood and all good nature sucked out of him. But, Jaskier recognizes a heart that is yearning. Yennefer had made her impression, and now those two were bound together by destiny. A witcher and a witch, poetic. 

Its several years until they see her again. Jaskier feels as spry and young as he had when he first met Geralt all those years ago. And a dragon hunt sets his blood on fire, a grand tale that would be. A majestic ballad it would make. Except, he's not really here because he wants too. Jaskier always believed that small things can make beautiful ballads as well. He doesn't need this journey, this is more for Geralt's sake. His lovestruck idiot friend. 

He offers, just once, if Geralt would want to go to the coast with him. It's an out. If Geralt wants it if he needs it. A comfort. But, Geralt finds that comfort in his own way, and there is no anger in Jaskiers' heart when he slips into Yennefer's tent. He doesn't want Jaskier. That's alright, he thinks. It's okay.

He misses the whole dragon hunt. And loses a witcher in the process. Geralt's words sting and burn inside him. He can smell brimstone and smoke in his nostrils. And the tips of his fingers burn with heat as he clenches them at his side. 

"Don't blame me for your actions _WITCHER_." Jaskier spits. "Don't you dare try to peg, what you call mistakes, on me. I didn't wish to have my voice taken from me. I didn't invoke the law of surprise. And I didn't want to go on this fucking dragon hunt, you colossal ass." 

Jaskiers eyes burn blue, as smoke curls off his lips. He can taste the embers but he's too angry to care. His clothes are properly burning now red licks of multicoloured flame. He can feel the anger build inside him, cresting waiting to spills.

" All I did was follow you, Geralt." 

And the world burst into fire. It cascades out of him in rivulets, in different colours that emulate the dawn. Jaskier screams and shrieks as he finds himself propelled into the air flying down the mountainside. But, Jaskier can't see, can't hear, all he feels is anger and betrayal and heartbreak. Massive wings of fire envelop the countryside. And Jaskier roars. As trees are engulfed in flame, as the great beautiful mountain is covered in ash. And then nothing. And the world is numb again, but he is warm and being cradled. 

' _Firebird_.' Someone in the dark whispers. ' _bringer of destiny, bringer of death_.'

  
  


He wakes. Wrapped in a blanket. He is held tightly to someone's chest. He goes to say something, but all that comes out is an indignant squawk. He tries again and again but all he can manage are squeaks. The room he's in is small and warm and covered in various scientific instruments. A laboratory. 

" Oh, hush." Says the soft voice that's carrying him. "You're lucky I found you, others would not have been so kind." 

He looks up to see purple eyes watching him intensely. There's a smirk on Yenefers' perfectly shaped red lips.

" you might like to know that you burned half the mountain in your heated rage." Yennefer smiles impressed. " Witchers can do that to people. But, your form has changed significantly." 

He doesn't feel any different, but Yennefer procures a mirror seemingly out of thin air. And she turns it towards him slowly. He sees a reddish, brown bird before him with dazzling blue eyes. The feathers emit a soft yellow glow like hot coals in a fire. A little feathery crest sits atop his head. His tail feathers are long shining gold and red. 

Jaskier moves his head and so does the bird. Jaskier opens his mouth and so does the bird. 

_ He's-  _

_ Oh, gods.  _

_ No- _

" you're a bird, yes." Yennefer says to save him the trouble. " more specifically a red falcon. And a little more." 

Jaskier shrieks and thrashes. Which in all fairness is a completely fair reaction to finding out that your beautiful body is now covered in feathers. And also significantly smaller. But Yennefer is having none of that today. She squeezes him hard. 

" Jaskier you have to calm down! This form is only temporary." Yennefer shouts over the loud shrieking. " I can help fix you!" 

He goes still at that. 

" Will you cooperate, Little bird?" Yennefer asks eyebrow arched. He nods. 

She huffs, removing the blanket she had wrapped him in. He squawks questioningly. And shakes himself off, hopping experimentally where he'd been set down on the desk. He begins eyeing Yennefer suspiciously. 

" don't look at me like that, I'm trying to help you, you annoying little minstrel." Yennefer says tiredly. " untamed power is bad for everyone, and can kill many people if left unchecked." 

Jaskier doesn't understand. He was on the mountain, and he got angry. Everything else is hazy after that. He doesn't have any power, he's a bard for Melitles sake!

" not just a bard." Yennefer answers, cryptically. " a firebird." 

There's a scary sort of hunger in Yennefer's eyes when she says that. The sort that she had in her when the Djinn incident occurred. Jaskier shivers ruffling all his feathers at once. 

" Firebirds were thought to be extinct, powerful creatures made of pure chaos and magic. And you my dear bard, by some miracle of your birth are one of them." Yennefer explains. 

He knows stories of them. Mere fairy tales for young children now. Firebirds could grant a man's fortune, and take it away just as easily. Their feathers were valuable.

Yennefer wanted one of his feathers. 

For a wish she never received. 

She wanted everything. 

And he could provide that.

Yennefer sighs. Looking at him defeatedly somewhat. 

" Yes, I want one." Yennefer confirms " would it be so much trouble to lose one as payment for help changing you back, and reigning in your enormous amounts of power." 

Well no, but also yes. Jaskier wasn't entirely sure he trusted Yennefer, yet. 

" I know this isn't ideal for you. And you don't like me much, but I can help." 

Fine, he thinks angrily already tired of his new body. But only one. 

" Excellent." Yennefer grins, as she delicately plucks a single feather from him. The light it exudes is dazzling filling up the room much more than any candle could. She admires it happily and pockets it.

Jaskier cocks his head at her and stamps his foot. 

" Yes, yes. Alright." Yennefer raises her hands and begins to chant over him a wild wind rushes to surround his body. It prickles his skin and feathers. Yennefer chants louder and louder. 

And once the wind settles, and exhaustion takes over the sorceress. Jaskier is still a bird. 

"Ah fuck." Yennefer says. 

  
  
  


It's strange perching on Yennefer's shoulder. He's taken up permanent residence there during their time together. He doesn't really like being with Yennefer at first, but her dry humour and wit begins to grow on him. He likes her, truly, nuzzling at her neck while she works. He can see her smile imperceptibly at that.

She tries everything to get him to change back. Potions, poultices, spells, rituals everything. It's exhausting. The only thing that has changed is Jaskier's newfound ability to dim or brighten the intensity of the light that burns from his feathers. Yennefer thinks it's useless. 

She confides in him sometimes, talking about everything and nothing. Her resentment of the Brotherhood, Tissia, missing Triss. Sometimes it's about her sisters that never ascended. The years she spent at court. Jaskier wonders if she tells him these things because all he can do is listen. He wonders if anyone sat and listened to Yennefer before. If the loneliness eats away at her, just as it did Geralt. He tells her some of his own stupid stories as well, she laughs. And Jaskier brightens.

  
  
  


Eventually, Yennefer sets him down gently and pushes the feather back towards him. Every avenue has been exhausted.

" I cannot get paid for something I can't perform," Yennefer says softly. Her hands tremble in barely contained frustration. 

Jaskier nudges it back to her. He wants her to keep it. At least she'll get what she wants if Jaskier can't. And all Jaskier ever really wanted was to be needed. He supposes that's what Yennefer wants too, now she can have it.

" Fuck, little bird, and I thought I was wallowing in the self- loathing." She says with a sad chuckle. " Well, if anything, you're welcome to stay here. It gets too quiet, sometimes." 

Yennefer strokes that top of his head gingerly making Jaskier chirps happily. Well, life can't get much weirder than being a firebird living in the home of a powerful sorceress. And to be perfectly honest, Yennefer looks downright frightening having a bird of prey perching happily on her shoulders. 

Wherever Yennefer goes Jaskier follows. And a familiar, terrible feeling grows in his stomach at that. It's like being with Geralt, but he's appreciated for his small encouragement and mere presence. Maybe if he could speak things would be different, but Yennefer seems to understand him just fine. She even finds him his lute. Which he can't play, but the sentiment is there. 

Then Sodden happens and Jaskier feels as if he's falling apart all over again. Yennefer has hardened herself in front of the Brotherhood. All traces of softness vanishing like early morning fog. She whips around like a hurricane, getting herself and others prepared for battle. He doesn't want to lose her, and his thoughts must be projecting loudly because she often strokes his head softly. 

" Quite a loyal bird you have there Yenna," Triss says softly the night before Nilfgaard attacks. 

Yennefer had glamoured him heavily before they entered the camp. Wouldn't want anyone to steal him in the dead of the night. He looks like an ordinary falcon now. 

" He never leaves my side " Yennefer affirms with a smile, Jaskier chirps and nuzzles her than just to prove the point. 

" Harmless too, it seems. Are you sure he'll be of use to us?" Triss asks, stroking his wings.

"He will." 

  
  


And he is.

Yennefer is injured as she stumbles up the hill facing an army too big for her. Too big for anyone. Jaskier follows her up hovering just above her. 

"Will you help my little bird." Yennefer whispers as chaos begins to pool at her fingertips. And Jaskier can feel something beginning to burst in his own chest, he's losing someone he cares about again. Something in him knows that if Yennefer does this he might lose her forever. 

" Let's burn them. Let's burn them all." 

They both scream. And scream as the world burns around them. Jaskier lights up the sky like a shooting star reigning death from above as Yennefer does from below. And just like before Jaskier can't hear anything, can't see anything, but the rage in his heart hurts. 

Then just as before nothing.

He wakes cold and alone. He stretched himself out on the forest floor, cracking bones pushing themselves back into their proper place.

He is human again. And he is alone.

He hates this.

By some unknown magic, he is clothed, and he has his lute with him. Ah, he thinks, small mercies. He searches for Yennefer for several days. Calling for her. But nothing comes up. No trace of raven hair or ruby lips. Nothing. 

He brings his knees up to his chest and cries. 

And cries.

He wants to go home.

So he does. 

  
  


He plays at taverns for small amounts of coin, anything. A meal, room and board. He'll take anything. Anything to get him home. On the third night in some dingy tavern, he catches the shine of white hair. Over the sea of people, he sees a very tall man and a very small girl tucked in the corner of the tavern. 

Geralt and his child surprise.

A sob threatens to bubble up and out of him. 

Golden eyes meet vibrant blue. 

Geralt shoots up out of his chair. His eyes are wide and wild, there's something in them. Guilt, Jaskier thinks as he flees, out the open door of the tavern. He doesn't want to think about Geralt and hasn't thought about him in almost a year. At least tried not to, when he became too mopey Yennefer would get mad at him. 

And thinking about Yennefer just makes it much worse. 

Geralt doesn't want him. He never has. He never cared. 

A large calloused hand grabs his arm. Jaskier jerks trying to dislodge it.

"Jaskier, stop please." Comes the gravelly voice. 

He says nothing. Unsure of his voice, something that had always saved him, failing him now. He swallows thickly.

" Come back inside. I have a room." Geralt says as if calming a wild animal. And maybe, he is one now. Jaskier's arm goes limp in Geralt's hold, letting Geralt slowly steer him back to his room. The small princess follows close behind.

When introductions have been made Ciri takes her leave bidding them goodnight. Jaskier finds himself sitting across from Geralt whose eyes are cast down. 

" I'm sorry." Geralt begins.

Jaskier snorts. Because that's not going to cut it. Two words won't change a year of anger. 

" You hurt me." Jaskier manages to say. " So much so that I literally burned a mountain, in anger. Did you forget?" 

Geralt shakes his head. He puts his face in his hands tiredly. 

" I was foolish. All my anger at myself I threw at you without care. I broke everything we managed to build in almost twenty years. All because I was lonely." 

Jaskier stays silent. Knowing that Geralt isn't done.

" Having Yen around felt good. It filled a hole I didn't know was empty. But, you were always there, weren't you." Geralt says fondly. " Always, before Yen, " 

Geralt huffs. 

" you're my friend, I love you. You are the greatest blessing in my life." He grits out. " and I want you back in it."  Geralt seems surprised by his own words. Jaskier is as well. 

" Geralt, I love you too. You big oaf." Jaskier says with a smile. "I'm bloody angry at you, you fucking pox for brains. But, I don't hate you." 

Geralt's eyes widened in relief. Tears are straining to flee from his eyes at any moment, and Jaskier wonders if witchers cry at all. 

" and luckily for you, your only friend in the whole wide world does not hold grudges. " Jaskier continues with a smirk. " Unless of course your name is Valdo Marx." 

There's silence again as Jaskier reaches over the small table they sat at and grasps Geralt's hands. Jaskier's affection had always been given freely, he loved too much to keep it in his heart only. Geralt relaxes further. 

" but it will be sometime before I forgive you completely," Jaskier whispers softly. 

Geralt hums and nods soaking in the affection he's being given. 

" I want to be better. For you." Geralt murmurs." Let me try. Please." 

" A lovely sentiment, to be sure. Just talk to me more about what's going on in that head of yours." Jaskier smiles softly squeezing Geralt's fingers. " so your anger isn't misplaced." 

" So," Geralt grins. " you're a firebird." 

Jaskier raises his eyebrows. 

" Just found out actually." Jaskier chuckled. " it's all very new to me." 

  
  


They smile at each other, hands held tightly together as they talk about the year they missed. Geralt explains being trapped in Cintra during its fall, and the responsibility he needs to take for his actions. For Ciri. How finding her was a stroke of luck, and the need to get to Kaer Morhen before winter hits. 

Jaskier tells Geralt of his own journey. The transformation he endured, and being taken in by Yennefer, he shuts his eyes when he begins to tell Geralt of Sodden and Yennefers sacrifice. Slowing Nilfgaard as much as they could. He tells Geralt about the burning in his chest ever since he woke in the middle of the forest with only a lute to his name. The weirdness of being something inhuman. 

Geralt presses a hand to Jaskiers' forehead, feeling a strange heat the pours off of him in waves. Tells him that his eyes flashed molten blue when his emotions would get the best of him. He saw them burn on the mountain. It pains him to speak of Yen, but Geralt manages. Telling Jaskier that he dreamt of Sodden, Yennefer disappeared like smoke. 

When midnight strikes they shuffle off to bed. Not even caring much at the smallness of it as the snuggle in together. Jaskier looks at Geralt sweetly. 

" Come home with me." Jaskier doesn't ask. Not really. " you won't make it to the keep before winter." 

He's painfully reminded of the coast. Of his want to be anywhere, but the mountain. Even if it made a good ballad. Geralt's refusal had stung then. Geralt's eyes are closed but he moves towards Jaskier imperceptibly. 

" Okay," Geralt nods and hums.

Jaskier's heart swells at that and his skin ripples in warmth, and a faint light dances on his skin. 

They leave in the morning, Ciri is boundless energy incarnate. She asks Jaskier every question she can and smiles brightly when she remembers all the times he came to play in Cintra over the years. Geralt raises a questioning eyebrow at him, but Jaskier shrugs. He needed to keep an eye on her even if Geralt didn't. 

She laughs at his jokes, making song requests as they move along. And Jaskier feels her worm deep into his heart already. Geralt growls at his musical choices but doesn't complain too much. Something in Geralt's face says that he's been missing this. The weather is beginning to get cold, white frost settles on everything, nipping at them as they trek through forests.

It takes two weeks to reach Jaskiers home, but before long a familiar estate comes into view. And Jaskier sighs in relief.

They are immediately escorted by several servants to the parlour, where Jaskier's mother sits calmly knitting. She takes a quick sip of her tea, glancing up at her son raising an eyebrow. 

" You don't write to me for an entire year, and you expect to just waltz your way in here like you own the place?" His mother exclaimed. 

" Technically-" Jaskier attempts to say.

" Don't you start, I thought you were dead." Emilia June Pankratz raises a finger accusingly. " And you, witcher, are you the one who kept my boy from me, huh?" 

Ah, his mother as always was quick as a whip. 

" Well madam-" Geralt tries going for charming, but Emilia ignores him.

" And who are you dear?" Jaskiers mother questions as Ciri hangs back keeping close to Jaskier. " Goodness you look pale as snow, come warm yourself by the fire. I'll send for some tea." 

Ciri looks at Jaskier, for confirmation, who carefully nods. Ciri tentatively walks over to the empty sofa closest to the fire. 

" I'm Cirilla." She says shyly." You have a lovely home." 

Jaskier sees his mother's eyebrows crawl up her face faster then he can strum a lute. She motions them all to sit, and rest. Tea is quickly served as they rest on the sofa. His mother's face softens even faster. 

" I thank you Cirilla. I hope my sweet Jasione has introduced me properly. And if he hasn't I am Emilia June Pankratz Viscountess de Lettenhove. Julian's mother." She says with a flourish. " My friends call me Emi, and my enemies call me nothing because they no longer live." 

" Mother," Jaskier says warningly. " Please don't scare Ciri." 

Jaskier glances at Geralt briefly who looks like he's having the time of his life. A sharp grin breaks out across his face. 

" Jasione?" He whispers teasingly. " You certainly have a thing for flowers, Jaskier." 

His mother winks at him. Jaskier rolls his eyes fondly. They chat pleasantly for some time, and Ciri tired, presumably from the trip, falls asleep on Geralt's shoulder. They move her quickly to an empty guest room before returning to settle once more in the parlour. A more serious conversation must commence. 

" you brought the Lion Cub of Cintra to my home. When all of Nilfgaard is after her?" His mother asks sternly. 

Jaskier winces at her words. 

" Just for the winter, then Geralt will be taking Ciri to Kaer Morhen. Neutral ground, far away from Nilfgaard." Jaskier explains. " And how, mother, did you know?"

His mother shrugs. Geralt nods in agreement. 

" It wouldn't be for long. Once spring hits we'll be gone." Geralt says " Ciri will be much safer there, but it's dangerous to travel in deep snows with three people." 

Jaskier whips his head around to face Geralt. They hadn't talked about the keep, ever. They parted ways for the winter always, and Jaskier never questioned it. 

" I didn't know you intended to take me with you." Jaskier smiles. 

"Hmmm." Geralt says.

Jaskier's mother eyes them both before clasping her hands together. 

" Then it is settled, Ciri will stay here for the winter. She will get all the accommodations she requires, including lessons. I assume you'll be teaching her how to use a sword." 

" er, yes madam." Geralt nods. 

" Good, I'll get the necessary materials for that as well." His mother stands abruptly, setting aside her knitting. " I'll be going to bed now, goodnight my sweet Jasione." 

She settles a kiss atop Jaskiers head as she glides out of the room. She shuts the door behind her gently. Quiet settles in the room. 

" Your mother, she's-" Geralt starts. 

" -Nothing like me." 

" no, she's practical." Geralt finishes. 

Jaskier chuckles. But his face grows serious. 

" You want to take me with you to Kaer Morhen." 

Geralt hums. 

"It's up to you." Geralt brushes some hair away from his face. " but, I'd like you to be there. Although I'll understand if the answer is no." 

Jaskier nods. They have time before spring hits. So much time. 

Winter at the estate is nice. Ciri trains with Geralt every morning, before moving on to lectures. Grumbling as she goes, for the most part, she seems to enjoy it. But, there are times when Ciri disappears, needing time alone. So much has changed for her in such little time. She must miss her family, Jaskier thinks. 

His mother takes a liking to Ciri immediately. They talk often, and he laughs as Ciri follows his mother on daily activities of the court. Ciri soaks up information so quickly.

However, they lack a sorceress. Ciri's magic is uncontrollable, whenever she gets angry magic swirls and destroys. It's becoming harder to calm her, and everyone feels as if they're stepping on eggshells. But Geralt is trying, showing her his signs, teaching her some semblance of control. 

Jaskier finally gets to relax after the year he's had. He needs a long drawn out respite. From everything. He's happy, but there is nagging at his heart. Something is missing. Someone is missing. 

Yennefer. 

Purple eyes. 

Red lips. 

Fury incarnate. 

The greatest and most delicate winter flower.

Geralt and Jaskier both agree that Yennefer isn't gone. She can't be, they hold on tight to that hope.

A week later they find a sorceress sitting in the parlour drinking tea with his mother. Emilia June Pankratz simply gets up from her place, squeezes Jaskier's shoulder and gently escorts Ciri out of the room. She protests loudly but doesn't push it.  This sorceress has deep purple eyes, raven hair, and a smug smirk on her face. She stands to greet them. Sort of. She smiles lovingly at Jaskier and they embrace tightly. Jaskier feels tears prick at his cheeks, inhaling the scent of lilac and gooseberries.

" I'm sorry little bird," Yennefer says kindly. " I meant to find you sooner, but magic is a cruel mistress." 

Turning towards Geralt, an icy expression rests on Yennefer's face. 

" Geralt." She indicates blandly. 

" Yen," Geralt says just as dry. 

"Oh dear," Jaskier says, sighing. " I can feel a lovers quarrel about to commence. Allow me to please leave the prem-" 

" No, stay!" They both shout in unison.

" Melitiles tits, alright," Jaskier exclaims as he flops onto the sofa. Strumming his lute to set a mood. 

It begins with anger. Ragged and wrathful words being thrown about. 

But.

They talk, surprisingly. The two of them, and it's somewhat cordial. About them, Ciri, everything. Jaskier just listens. He watches as Geralt reaches out to her shyly, they both know he loves her dearly. Djinn magic or not. This woman Geralt brought apple juice too, during an orgy. Ah, love is strange. 

And Yennefer won't say it can't, almost worse than a witcher in that regard. She lets herself feel in increments, but she doesn't know how to be soft when the occasion calls for it. She too reaches out with careful determination. Until they're holding hands, tightly, like the world might fall apart if they let go. 

Yennefer sighs. And something in Jaskier warms as the two quickly reach for him as well, pulling him in close to them tightly bringing him into their orbit. They're all home.  Later, much later, when the day is done and they're sharing a bed between the three of them. Geralt is asleep, but Jaskier and Yen had stayed up to talk. Like they did when Jaskier was a bird. 

( He needs to dwell on the whole being a firebird thing for longer. But, Jaskier doesn't want to. He's not quite ready to address all that entails) 

Yennefer produces the feather he had once gifted to her. She pushes it back into his hands, shaking her head when he attempts to protest. 

" I don't need it little bird." She says with a small smile. " I have everything within reach." 

And with that, the feather disappears like the setting sun. A fate fulfilled

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. As a treat here are all of my notes while I was writing:  
> • Everything in Yennefers arc is the same except Jaskier is there perching on her shoulder. He got high too in that one scene.  
> • Bird and bard are interchangeable at this point.  
> • Do you know how painful it would be to carry a falcon on your shoulders. Yennefer proves to be metal as hell.  
> • Jaskier fights at sodden with Yennefer and helps her just before she disappears.  
> • He regains his human form bc of his fondness and love for Yen. And his want to see Geralt again. Cuz firebirds are made of love and beauty.  
> • How did Jaskier get his lute back? Bc god said so.  
> • Finds Geralt and Ciri, and offers them sanctuary at his home in cidaris.  
> • Destiny is on Jaskiers side. One might say.... he is a little bit of destiny  
> • FORGIVENESS, LOVE, NEW BEGINNINGS  
> • Emilia June Pankratz is Ciri's new grandma.  
> • Yenneffer finds them, lives with them. Shows Jaskier she never used the feather cuz she got a ffffffamiiillly now.  
> • Is there an A plot, is there a B plot who knows. I dont.  
> • Jaskiers life is the just orpheus in the underworld overture played on a loop. Thank you Jacques Offenbach.  
> • It's the can-can  
> • Polyamory...maybe. sorta kinda. Maybe.  
> • What can I say I'm a slut for romance.  
> • Ciri has nightmares, and on those nights it's a choose your own adventure. With which adult she wants to comfort her.  
> • Trick question it's all of them.  
> • Emilia Pankratz has a HISTORY. But we dont have time to unpack all of that.  
> • Emilia Pankratz is a practical lady.  
> • Why am I using the word softly so much. Cuz this is soft.  
> • I dont I know what I want: the fic. And yet some how I wrote over 6000 words  
> • Geralt and Yennefer settled on sharing Jaskier and Ciri in the divorce.  
> • Lol they still love each other  
> • Yeah, no, we talk this shit out like adults even if we're maddddd at each other.  
> • Did I look at any maps for this fic. No. Will the author continue to make vague allusions to where they are. Yes.  
> • Jaskier " I've got a lute" Pankratz.  
> • I keep forgetting the fucking lute.  
> • HAND TOUCHING.  
> • Kissing is a concept.
> 
> The running joke is that no one really knows how to say or spell Melitele.
> 
> Again thanks so much for reading.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [sing to me, sweet mockingbird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23558830) by [karauna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karauna/pseuds/karauna)




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